


Under Starlight

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lalwen and Elemmírë enjoy some quiet moments together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talullah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/gifts).



> Many thanks to Muccamukk for beta reading this.

“Are you done already?”

Elemmírë turned from the wall and smiled. 

“Princess,” she said, watching as Lalwen walked down the long gallery and stopped next to her with her arms crossed over her chest and her brow slightly creased. “Always impatient, aren't you?”

“You have been working since daybreak,” Lalwen retorted, “it is almost the second mixing now.”

“I cannot leave a fresco half-unfinished, can I? Besides, this is a commission from your father.”

The gallery had been open until recently, when Finwë had decided to close it off completely with a row of floor-to-ceiling windows supported by the large marble columns, so that the garden view wouldn't be obstructed, but the paintings and other works of art housed in the gallery itself wouldn't be damaged by the rain or wind. The whole back wall was covered by a fresco which had suffered from the weather's inclemency. Elemmírë herself had painted it before the Vanyar left Tirion, therefore it had seemed sensible to Finwë to call on her to restore it. 

Lalwen was grateful for that – for the fact that the commission had brought Elemmírë to Tirion and allowed her to stay for a few weeks, though she wished she could have spent more time with her, rather than see her constantly busying herself with painter's tools.

“I have almost finished this section,” Elemmírë said, turning towards the wall again.

The section in question portrayed a naked woman, her body flying in an unrestrained dance under blinding starlight, a vivid memory of Cuiviénen. 

Lalwen contemplated it for a few moments, lingered over every detail to appreciate its beauty in full. “You didn't alter it.”

There had been suggestions to do away with the nudity, make the scene more proper in the Valar's eyes.

“That's how we danced. Don't you agree it is better like this?”

Lalwen nodded. The figure exuded vigour, joy and passion. It was, Lalwen thought, a reflection of Elemmírë's own nature more than of the Quendi's ancient customs, and not any less soulful or poignant than her poetry. Lalwen's eyes shifted to her, to her absorbed profile as she carefully wielded her brush over a tiny detail. Her golden hair was tied in a loose braid, her clothes paint-stained. Elemmírë was exuberant and so old that Lalwen also felt a little intimidated next to her at times. Just a little – the love and complicity that had blossomed between them during Lalwen's stay in Valmar to further her astronomy studies was a beautiful, cosy thing. 

“When can I have the artist all to myself?” she asked, as Elemmírë turned towards the table where her tools were messily laid out. 

“After dinner,” Elemmírë said, delight in her voice. She looked up at the dancer, eyes narrowing as she conjured a different image. “One day I want to have you like this...naked, dancing under the stars for me and me alone, where others cannot watch.”

Lalwen blushed.

Elemmírë's gaze fixed on her, tenderly fond and ardent all in one. “Would you do that for me?” 

Lalwen gave her a playful push on the shoulder, but the slight curl to her lips, the dimples which appeared on her cheeks, conveyed a clear yes. Elemmírë grinned and leaned in to give her a kiss on the lips.

*

After dinner, Lalwen and Elemmírë snuck out of the dining room, where Elemmírë was entertained as a guest of the High King, and went back to the gallery. They sat under the window, gazing out at the night sky. The fresco took on silvery hues under Telperion's rays, making it even more life-like.

“I like it better here,” Elemmírë said, leaning back on her arms with her head up-thrust.

“What do you mean?”

“The stars...you can't properly see them all in Valmar. The light of the trees is too strong there. Sometimes, I miss the diamond-like glitter we had in Cuiviénen.”

Lalwen considered her words in silence. “Why don't you move here then? My own house is large enough to accommodate you, and leave you plenty of room for your work,” she said, with some hesitancy but earnestly, almost fervently. Spending her life at Elemmírë's side was her greatest wish. They could see each other frequently now, but not quite as frequently as she would have wanted. The distance between Valmar and Tirion was a considerable one.

“I have my apprentices, and the poets' circles, in Valmar,” Elemmírë said. 

“Are those more important than me?”

Elemmírë chortled, amused by Lalwen's slight pout. “No, Princess. I cannot think of someone more meaningful to me than you.”

“You mock me,” Lalwen mumbled. 

“I would never dare to.”

Elemmírë sat up straight, raising a hand to stroke Lalwen's dark brown hair. Lalwen shuddered as her fingers fluttered over her nape. Their faces drew closer, until their lips met, brushed against each other in a gentle caress, and then their mouths opened and joined. The kiss was deep and unhurried, a languid delectation into which both immersed themselves.

When their mouths separated, Elemmírë licked Lawlen's soft, moist lips, and didn't let her go when she made to pull back. She crushed them even closer instead, so that they could feel each other's heartbeat through their clothes.

“Why don't we go to my chambers?” she murmured, her lips still touching Lalwen's.

“Don't you want to make love to me here, under the stars?” 

Elemmírë bit on Lalwen's lower lip, then trailed her mouth over her cheek to her ear. “I worry for your comfort, Princess.”

*

The view from Elemmírë's room was more limited, but they threw the curtains and window open, so that the night sky shone in all its glory on the bed. Elemmírë's hair was fanned out around and under her, whereas Lalwen's cascaded over Elemmírë's skin, caressing it gently as she kissed her way up Elemmírë's naked body. Her lips began their adoration from Elemmírë's left thigh – lingering on a scar that marked it near where it joined her hip – and up towards her navel, which they licked. She slid closer on her knees as she progressed ever upwards – slowly, relishing Elemmírë's content whimpers – and pressed one of her thighs between Elemmírë's legs.

She bent to suck on a soft, large nipple. Elemmírë moaned her approval and at the same time rubbed herself against Lalwen's thigh.

“Princess –” she panted, as Lalwen's tongue swirled on her nipple, and Lalwen felt more than a princess, and more than a queen.

“Yes?” she asked, and flicked her tongue over the hardened nub already drenched in her spit.

Elemmírë beckoned her towards her face, one of her roguish grins playing about her lips. “I would have the honour of your quim.”

Lalwen would have laughed if the mock-serious entreat hadn't made desire pulsate wildly in her crotch and wetness drip from her.

“I may consider it,” she said and, trembling, planted her knees on either side of Elemmírë's body and crawled until she straddled her face. Elemmírë's head shot up and her tongue plunged between Lalwen's folds, licking her eagerly.

“Élë!” 

Elemmírë gave one more lap and rested back, her hands caressing Lalwen's buttocks and thighs. “Grant me this, let me taste you, Princess. Let me regale you with pleasure.”

Lalwen bit her lower lip, and lowered herself. Her heart pounded in her chest. Elemmírë stuck her tongue out, her eyes brimming with love. Lalwen rocked back and forth, very slowly at first, barely allowing the wet caress, inhaling sharply through her nose every time her clit brushed against Elemmírë's tongue. Elemmírë linked their hands together on either side of her head. She let Lalwen set own pace, but at times would lap at her clit, her opening, or gently nip at her with her teeth, enjoying the shudders that went through Lalwen. 

Lalwen grew bolder, and began to move more quickly and grind down, her muscles flexing and relaxing, as if she were dancing, then and there in Elemmírë's bed, but as her pleasure crested she stilled again, and it was Elemmírë who effected her orgasm, so intense that it left Lalwen quivering and panting.

Elemmírë gently dislodged her and sat up, gathering Lalwen in her arms while she basked in the sweet bliss, under the cheerful glitter of the stars.


End file.
